


Back To The Beginning Of It All

by afteriwake



Series: The Past All Over Again [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Back to the beginning, Civil Conversations, Co-workers, Comfort No Hurt, Confident Sherlock Holmes, Conversations, Crime Scenes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Extra Work, F/M, Fade to Black, Fish & Chips, Forehead Kisses, Future Events Changing, Hurt/Comfort, Important decisions, Injured Sherlock Holmes, Irritated Sally Donovan, Jealous Sherlock, Knowledgeable Molly Hooper, Knowledgeable Sherlock Holmes, Lap Sitting, Late Night Conversations, Literal Sleeping Together, Making Plans, Molly Hooper & Mike Stamford Friendship, POV Alternating, POV Molly Hooper, POV Sherlock Holmes, Past Repeats Itself, Plans For The Future, Platonic Relationships, Polite Sherlock Holmes, Post-Season/Series 04, Relationship Discussions, Roommates, Sally Donovan & Molly Hooper Friendship, Season rewrites, Season/Series 01 AU, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Shock Blanket, Sleeping Molly Hooper, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Sex, St Bartholomew's Hospital, Surprised Sally Donovan, Time Travel Fix-It, Urgent Conversations, Worried Molly Hooper, past Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Mycroft had sent Sherlock, and Molly as well, on an assignment that he assumed was not much more than the delusions of a madman and a wild goose chase. It turned out to be so much more than that, as three people are sent back to 2010, with all the knowledge of the last eight years ahead of them...but only two of them are aware they were not meant to go back as well.
Relationships: Molly Hooper & Mike Stamford, Sally Donovan & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: The Past All Over Again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028553
Comments: 50
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenSkyOverMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSkyOverMe/gifts), [Dreamin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/gifts).



> Written as a thank you for **GreenSkyOverMe** for help she gave me, and **Dreamin** , who I plotted this first bit out with. I hope you both enjoy it!

“He really said that this man was perfecting time travel?” Molly asked as she followed Sherlock through what seemed to be an endless maze of sewers underneath Paris. Why this was the concern of Mycroft or his division of the government he hadn’t explained yet, but they had used it as an excuse to spend time alone in a lovely city before Mycroft insisted they actually _work_ on the case.

Sherlock nodded. “And he scoffed, which means he believes the missive as much as one might believe The Daily Mail has a pertinent place in London’s newspapers.”

Molly gave a slightly undignified snort. “You’re just upset they splashed our pictures on the cover when you forgot to lock the door to the flat.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t deserve that,” he said, slightly mollified. The adventures of being the live-in girlfriend of Sherlock Holmes. Never an ounce of privacy when they wanted it. But still. John had moved in again with Rosie and she supposed having most of her found family in one place wasn’t a bad thing.

 _And here I am, sounding like a besotted fanfic writer,_ she thought as she kept up with Sherlock leading the way. But still. There were many many perks to it, but it was not as though there were still some dangers. Not Eurus; she still wasn’t speaking, but visits with her family had helped. Moriarty was six feet under, just where he deserved to be and for the most part, his organization was in tatters. Magnussen was...well, the less said about that incident the better. But there were others. There would always be others, but between everyone, she felt safe enough.

She saw the faint glow up ahead and was about to mention it when there was a crackle of sound. They picked up the speed and made it to the entryway of a catacomb when there was a bright explosion and then...nothing.

**\---**

“Black, two sugars.”

And then he felt what must have been the percussive sound of an explosion in the back of his head, and things...changed. Not where he was, exactly, but the last memories he had was an explosion and--

“Molly.”

“You too?” she said weakly, shutting her eyes, as though they were damaged by the bright light. She had seen it too. She had heard the explosion.

She _knew_.

He dropped the riding crop and went over to her, gently cradling her head. Moriarty, Magnusson, his sister, all the dangers flooded through as he realized exactly where they were, _when_ they were. The day he met John. The experiment with the riding crop. The failed attempt to ask him out for coffee.

And yet…

“The bastard did it,” he said softly. At least they were together though, he realized as Molly gently cradled his hands on her head as much as he was being gentle with her. “Open your eyes, Molly.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, shaking her head.

“We’re safe, or safe enough for the moment. We’re at Barts, the day I met John,” he said. “Whatever happened in the catacomb, we got caught up in it. But we’re together.”

She opened her eyes slowly, looking at him, and then pulling away to look down at her clothing, to look around. “You were telling me how you take your coffee, and then…”

“Here we are,” he said.

“It was that madman? We’ve gone back in time?”

Sherlock nodded. “With seemingly all the knowledge we’ve gathered from the last several years.”

“But that means we…”

He pulled her into his embrace. “No. I’m not going to do it all the way I did before. If I have this knowledge, I should use it. We both should. But I’m not about to let you go again.”

He could feel relief flood through her as she embraced him back tightly. “Oh, Sherlock.”

He pressed a kiss into her hair, thankful it wasn’t until they were upstairs that Stamford found him and she joined him later with the horrible coffee that he drank anyway. For the moment, they had peace and time to themselves. But he had meant what he’d said. Nothing was going to cause him to let her go again.

Even if they’d change time itself in the process.


	2. Chapter 2

“Something is different.”

Sherlock was sure he’d never get used to hearing that statement, even if it was the truth. But instead of being hard at work in his own private lab on the fourth floor of Barts, he was at work in the path lab with Molly. He already knew the outcome of the riding crop bruises and the case, and had called Lestrade and told him and gotten much the same sentiment from him. It probably hadn’t helped he had slipped and said Lestrade’s real first name and not one of the many he had gifted him with over the years.

And if he was going to change, he might as well go the whole hoof and do it to everyone. Stamford, Donovan, Anderson...well, maybe not Anderson as much. That man was an imbecile for the most part, at least until he started working for his brother.

“Yes,” Sherlock said quietly. “It is.”

“I can’t put my finger on it,” Stamford said.

“I’ve had a change of heart, thanks to Dr. Hooper,” he said. “We’ve agreed to start dating.” A small lie, but no one would believe she was his live-in girlfriend all of a sudden. Best to start small and build from there. If he was lucky, he could still remember how to slip in and out of her flat and still spend his evenings with her.

He glanced over at her. If he had come here alone, and she hadn’t an inkling he loved her more than he cared to take his next breath sometimes, he didn’t know what he would have done. He didn’t want to take the course to woo her again that he’d taken the first time, but he doubted she would have trusted him and cared for him half as much if he hadn’t. But at least they were in this together. He knew what she knew about future events, and while he knew that they were likely to change with their interference, perhaps some things would change for the better.

Mary, for instance. Even now, her loss still stung at his heart. When he saw Rosie hit a new milestone without her mum around, when he saw John try and date again, he missed Mary all the more. Maybe this time he could make things right.

“Congratulations?” Stamford said.

Molly nodded. “I think they’re in order, yes,” she said, smiling. There was something tremulous in the smile, but it was still convincing as Stamford went on to introduce John to him. He showed off again, deducing that he had been in the war, even though he knew far more about John’s experiences in the war now than he had inferred the moment they had met.

Molly watched, seeing it all for the first time, but stayed quiet until both of them left to ostensibly go back to the morgue. Once they were there he went into her office and pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. “I was a bastard all those years ago, wasn’t I?” he asked.

“You could be, yes,” she said, wrapping her arms around him as well. “But I could see the good in you even before John came into the picture.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured before kissing her softly. She reached up to brace his shoulders as she increased the pressure of the kiss, making it more heated but being careful not to overwhelm either of them. There would be a time and a place for that later, but first, Sherlock had to reconvince John to move into Baker Street. For now, though, he could savor a moment alone with Molly and feel some peace during this whole situation.

**\---**

Later that evening, Molly went back to the home that she had loved and later given up to live at Baker Street. It was strange coming back to it, and even stranger knowing Sherlock used to slip in and use her bedroom as his bolt hole, and now he was coming in the front door and would be sharing her bed with her. She had the feeling no matter how hard they tried some things were now too ingrained between them to give the illusion that they were going to take things slowly.

She had no idea what the state of her kitchen had been that day in the past, but she found enough to make a good meal and a store of whiskey above the refrigerator. Whiskey was had while she cooked and they chatted, and it helped to take an edge off that she hadn’t realized was so strong.

“Things are already starting to change,” Sherlock said, tilting the glass so the whiskey circled around. “Not memories of what happened, but…”

“Other things,” she said with a nod. “I noticed. You know this time around, I’m going to be a target.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I could tell Lestrade right now how the suicides are really murder and who’s doing it and stop him in his tracks, but that would just interest Moriarty more. And yes, you being my lover will make you more of a target, especially since Moriarty can’t pose as Jim from IT to get close to you.”

“That’s what saved me before,” she said. “We could move slowly, I suppose. See each other casually. That would allow him to go out with me as well for a few dates.”

“I never asked, but…” Sherlock asked, looking at his drink. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No, but there was some rather heavy petting,” she said. “I think, perhaps I interested him, but he couldn’t go through with it, at least before I called things off.”

“Please don’t change that this time,” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock, I may kiss him, but I’d rather come back to you afterward. Wash my skin of him and let you hold me tight.” She set her glass down and went up to him, raising one arm and caressing his cheek. “I love you. That didn’t change with all this. For all we know, he won’t have an interest in me this time that way, for better or worse. We’ll see when he decides to make himself known.”

“I wish I could just solve all the cases he’s involved in and lock him up in a deep dark hole to keep you safe,” he said before turning his head and pressing a kiss into her palm.

“And I want to keep you safe. I know the scars all over your body that you get when you’re gone. If I could keep you from getting them, I would.”

“I know,” he said, his voice soft. Then he pulled her close and kissed her the way he had kissed her in the future, after they finally admitted not only that they loved each other but were in love with each other and didn’t want anyone else. Dinner was soon forgotten as the taste of whiskey played on their lips and he lifted her shirt up, neither of them caring particularly if they made it to her bedroom just as long as they could be together in all the ways that mattered to future them.


	3. Chapter 3

He held her close as she slept, her head on his chest so she could listen to his heartbeat, her hair splayed around them. She had cut it short in late 2017, so it was nice that it was long again now. He had missed running his fingers through her hair more than he realized.

It was in the late of the night that he came to the realization that even though the past had already changed, there was so much at stake that they couldn’t make any _real_ changes to the past. Moriarty had to make his play as close to the way he had as possible, even if Molly was dangled as a new interesting thing in his life now. He still had to go away and lie to everyone that he was dead. John still had to marry Mary and have Rosie and…

As much as he might want to, Mary still had to die or else Culverton Smith would continue to get away with murder.

Maybe they could make small changes here and there, but really, he would need to put distance between himself and Molly, at least until Moriarty came out into the open. It was what needed to happen. It was the right course of action to take. But as Molly’s lips brushed his chest as she turned her head in her sleep, he knew he could never let her go completely. It already made a major change in the past, but there wasn’t much he could do. He was a good actor but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t love her for years at a time. Not even for her own safety, or for his.

“Mmm, you’re not sleeping,” she said softly, sounding as if she was just barely awake. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“We’ve already made enough ripples in the past, being together now. We can’t make any major changes. We can’t bring Moriarty down now or stop Magnusson any other way. I can’t tell Mycroft I know about Eurus.” He ran his fingers along her arm. “Though if he has your home bugged I may have already slipped up there.”

“He doesn’t. I demanded as much when we had our meeting after you started coming to my path lab.”

“Oh?” Sherlock asked. In all the time they’d known each other, he had no idea what her initial meeting with his brother had been like.

“I wanted my privacy. Just because you liked my lab didn’t mean you’d like me, so I told him I wanted my home to stay free of surveillance, and in turn, I’d be friendly to you but I wouldn’t tell him anything that he couldn’t ascertain from CCTV.” She yawned then. “I thought that was why you made my room your bolt hole. Because there wasn’t surveillance here.”

“I did it to be closer to you,” he said. “You comforted me, even if I wouldn’t admit it then.”

“Mmm,” she hummed happily. “I’m glad. But really, I think I knew, even before Mary grilled me on where you might be after you left the hospital.”

“I might do that differently since I can’t woo Janine,” he said. “Unless we break up for a while.”

“You asked me about Moriarty,” she said, lifting her head up to look at him. “Did you and her ever shag?”

“No, much to her consternation. But she did sleep in my bed and steal my clothes.”

“Good,” she said. “But if you have to do it that way again, I’ll control my jealousy.”

“Hopefully Magnusson can be dealt with in a more effective manner than a gunshot to the head,” he replied.

“I doubt it, but hopefully it can be done by someone other than you.” She set her head back on his chest and let her hand splay on his stomach, her fingers curling in the hair below his navel. “Get some sleep, Sherlock. You need it. Tomorrow you have to leave early and meet John at Baker Street. You two have a case to go solve.”

“I’ll be careful this time.”

“You don’t need to be careful, you just need to get John to like you enough to shoot someone on your behalf.”

“How did you know that?” Sherlock asked, surprised.

“After Mary died, he got quite drunk. And he rambles when he’s pissed. I was there taking care of Rosie and he needed to vent and you were the last person he wanted to see but the first person he wanted to talk about.” 

“You’re too good a woman, you know.”

“No. If I was too good a woman I’d have washed my hands of all this or called the police or something. Maybe I’m just messed up enough to know even with all the risks, you’re worth my heart.”

“And you’re worth mine,” he said. She lifted her head and shifted her body to kiss him again, and as her hand moved lower they both realized that the time for conversation had passed for now, and sleep would have to come later. Some things were vastly more important at the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

She made sure Sherlock ate and then he was off to meet John. It was strange going through all of this but having it be different as well, and she wasn’t sure she’d get used to it. But she knew that there was going to be another murder posited as a suicide, and she’d get the body late in the evening, and she reminded Sherlock that if he wanted to make some small changes that would work out better for all to be civil to Sally and Anderson when he was there. And also, not to steal the suitcase this time. He knew what was in it and what it meant. He reminded her the drug bust was the first time John came to his defense, and she conceded that maybe he needed to steal it again after all.

It was all going to be a royal headache, reliving all of this, she could tell.

So she went to Barts and bided her time, working on cases she remembered, doing the autopsies quickly but without error, and debating whether to open up some colder cases and look over autopsies done by other pathologists. She wasn’t surprised when Stamford made his way to her office and waited while she finished sewing up a body.

“So. You and Holmes,” he said. 

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “I suppose he finally saw me for what I was and not just the supplier of body parts.”

“Are you happy?” Stamford asked.

“I am, yes,” she said with a nod. “We went out for dinner last night. It was nice.”

“He seems a bit...different. Not so abrasive, you know? It’s like he had a mid-life crisis that brought about some abrupt changes to his personality.”

She made a mental note to tell Sherlock to not get rid of all his arseholish tendencies all at once. He’d changed more than she thought either of them really realized in the eight years into the future that they lived through. “I think he’s just realized he was lonely and his behavior was putting people off.”

“Well, John seemed to like him well enough, or at least be fascinated by him. Wouldn’t be surprised if they become...friends, maybe. At least proper flatmates if nothing else.” Stamford gave her a grin. “You seem to be in a quick state of mind. I mean, when it comes to working. Or…”

“Sometimes the cause of death is rather apparent, once I dig in and do the autopsy,” she said. “You know, I was wondering…are there old autopsies I could look over, in case I get bored?”

“I’d never say no to giving you more work if you want it,” he said. “I’ll get some files for you later. Are you sure it won’t take away from your newfound personal life?”

She forgot that eight years ago she was still pining over Sherlock to the detriment of her social life until Jim from IT came along. And even that had been a brief flicker of light in a time of relationship stagnation. He’d made her uneasy, and for good reason, as she’d found out later. Knowing he could be moving into the IT position soon and making moves towards her again made her skin crawl slightly, but for now, she’d focus on the fact she had a deeper relationship with Sherlock than anyone else would fathom. Soon enough they could be more open about it. “No, I don’t think it will be a problem. If nothing else, if Sherlock gets bored, we can work on them together.”

“Bonding over dead bodies?” Stamford said with a chuckle. “You two do make an ideal couple, after all, I think. I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thank you,” Molly said.

“I’ll go get the files,” he said, letting her out of his office and leaving her alone. She went and made herself some coffee out of the large pot she kept for when she had to pull a double or come in early. Sherlock had gifted her with a Keurig coffee maker around the time he came back and they’d had their day of solving crimes together, and she missed the simplicity of only making one piping hot cup at a time. Still, the caffeine helped her think.

There were things she could do to help. Sherlock had never told her what kind of poison the taxi cab driver had been making his victims take, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have tests standing by for when she got blood and bodily fluid samples. _She_ knew it was murder, not suicide, and she could help prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt...just in case.

Time to get to work.

**\---**

“Here’s the freak,” he heard Donovan say, certainly loud enough for John to hear. He was lucky in that much of the morning and afternoon had been the same for him. He remembered Molly’s words before he left about treating Donovan and Anderson with civility, even though the freak remark was jarring. It had been some time since Donovan had been hostile towards him in the future, having reconciled herself with the part she played in his “death” long before he came back and doing her part to help Lestrade clear his name. He was thankful, she was sorry...it was a good step to mend fences between them, and he’d gone on to help her in cases she worked that weren’t under Lestrade’s purview. She was a DI herself, eight years in the future.

Maybe he could help her achieve that position earlier this time, with just some tweaks to their interactions. He respected talent, and she had it. It would be a shame for it to be marred if Moriarty tried the stunt with the kidnapping and the body double again.

“Good evening, Donovan,” he said, careful not to say it through gritted teeth. The freak remark was a dig, and he should show it affected him, but the look of shock on her face at his curt politeness was almost well worth it. “This is John Watson, an acquaintance of mine. He’ll be accompanying me to the scene.”

“You brought company to a crime scene?” she asked, the usual venom lacing her voice in this time period tempered back.

Sherlock nodded. “I’ve been in need of a partner. John may work as one as well as a flatmate.”

“You’re a strange one, Holmes,” she said, shaking her head. “Gloves, booties, suit. For both of you.”

He hated the accouterments needed for a crime scene, but instead of arguing with her, he nodded. “Very well.”

“Has something...never mind,” she said, shaking her head and lifting up the crime scene tape for him. 

“She looks like you grew a second head,” John remarked when they were a short distance away, getting the gear they needed.

“I’ve decided to try being polite to her. She and I haven’t had the best of relationships. My girlfriend suggested I mend it.”

“Yeah, about that. Molly, right?” Sherlock nodded. “Stamford said you were single, but the two of you seem...cozy.”

“It came as a sudden surprise,” Sherlock said, only admitting it was a partial lie. “But we’ve been on a familiar footing for a time now. I think our relationship may take a swift course, but she’ll never be underfoot at the flat. She has her own home and I may choose to spend more time there if the two of you don’t get on.” He had never considered that in this altered past John might not like Molly.

“No, it’s alright, if you don’t mind if I bring dates around.”

“You are a grown man,” Sherlock said with a faint grin. “I’ll extend the courtesy of making myself scarce when you have company.”

“And I should do the same?” John asked with a grin of his own.

“If you want to. Molly is...special. I think she’d like you as a friend.”

“Well, we’ll see how it goes,” John replied, and Sherlock almost felt like letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. So far, so good.

They went upstairs to the crime scene. Sherlock knew what was there already; the change in his own personal life would have no effect on a murder committed before he’d had any interactions with the taxi cab driver, but he put in the effort to seem to be taking it all in as John, Lestrade and Anderson spoke. Sherlock even managed to hold his tongue when Anderson went off on his tangent about what “Rache” meant, and he had to be careful not to correct him and simply nod and tell Lestrade to tell him everything he could once he talked to the husband.

Now it came down to the suitcase. To take it, or not? If he took it, there would be the drugs bust that would have so much of NSY absolutely gleeful, but it would also lead to John coming to his defense. If he left it, he wouldn’t know anything about the contents, not that they’d mattered, but the potential for bonding would be lost.

In the end, he told Lestrade to be on the lookout for a purse of some sort and a mobile, and he set off to get the suitcase. Some things simply had to run the course, he knew. Even if it was a headache to go through it all over again, the suitcase and the drugs bust _had_ to happen.

He just hoped it still had the desired effect.


	5. Chapter 5

“You didn’t tell me you _ditched_ him!”

“Well, if it all was going to do according to plan, Donovan had to make her snide remark to him away from me, I had to get the suitcase, Mycroft has to kidnap him, and then I have to text him. Later.” There was a pause. “Pass the vinegar?”

Molly shook her head and handed him the packet of malt vinegar. He’d gone round to their favorite chippery and gotten them each fish and chips. They were cold now, which was off-putting, but Sherlock was humming with a vibrant, frenetic energy she hated to admit she hadn’t seen in a long time. After what his sister had put him through, after having John and Rosie move in and stay with them, he’d stopped doing dangerous things...mostly.

And now he was back to playing a life or death game of cat and mouse with the cabbie driver, just as he had eight years prior, only this time it was different. He _knew_ all the answers. He knew the killer’s face, the cab he drove, he knew how to reach him. Molly had even figured out the poison he was using when the woman had come in. In fact, they weren’t at Baker Street or her home; they were at Barts as she finished up the autopsy of the woman. A few pending tests were needed, but she’d managed to find the concoction that was in the pills the cabbie was coercing them into taking.

But what made it so different is this time, Sherlock didn’t want John to shoot. He wanted to catch the cabbie and have him spend what little of his life was left in a jail cell, and get Moriarty’s attention that way.

She worried it was too big a change to the timeline, that it would blow up in their faces and John wouldn’t take the flat or he wouldn’t protect Sherlock. But Sherlock had a Plan with a capital P, and she was simply holding on for the ride.

“Sherlock, don’t you think it should play out the way it did before?” she asked, taking some malt vinegar for her fish.

“If it does, I lose a connection before I’m even supposed to realize he is one. We lose the Chinese circus, and it isn’t until the pool that I put it all together, and I lose information for Mycroft in that debacle. I want to beat Moriarty at his game by making subtle changes to his plans.”

“And what if you fail? What if the person wearing the bomb in the pool isn’t John but me? What if he doesn’t feel like letting you walk away that evening? Bloody hell, for all we know, Mary’s wrapped up in this. We never got all the answers as to what she was doing before she swept John off his feet while you were playing dead.”

He set his food down and reached for her from the office chair he was sitting in, his fingers digging lightly into her hips as he pulled her onto his lap. She turned just enough to deposit her food on the desk and looked him right in the eye. He let his fingers glide through her hair, something he hadn’t done in ages because her hair had been cut short due to Rosie getting a hold of scissors while she napped on the sofa. The motion seemed to calm some of the frenetic energy running through him.

“Do you really want me to play it the way I did before? Text John, dazzle him with the contents of the case, the lack of her mobile, then make a mad dash around London for the cabbie who had dropped him off?”

“I would feel better if you did,” she said.

Sherlock sighed. “Last night I was trying to talk us both into making as few changes as possible, and in the rush, I think I’m playing God and can control the elements of the game. I’m never in control of the game, am I, Molly? And the changes we already made put everything at risk, and yet what I feel the need to do is change even more, even though logically I know it puts our world at risk.” He twirled some of her hair around a finger and then let it flutter down. “Can’t I do more to control the narrative?”

“I know how you feel,” she said. She cupped his chin and kissed him softly as he moved his hand up and let his fingers sink into her hair again. She’d have to braid it again once he left, but she knew that letting him touch it was calming. He was thinking clearly, at least for the moment.

When he pulled away she rested her forehead against his. “Mycroft’s got him now. I don’t have long till I have to summon John back to Baker Street. Then the chase, then the drugs bust. I won’t be coming over tonight.”

“Bull,” she said. “I know what else happens tonight. You get in the bloody taxi and square off with the killer and Greg gives you a shock blanket for your trouble. Both you and John are coming over tonight. I insist, for my own wellbeing. And yours.”

“What would I do without you?” he murmured before kissing her again. This kiss was brief, and with some regret, he eased her off his lap and stood. “If I use my homeless network I can figure out how deep in conversation John and Mycroft are. It may be over, for all I know, but I at least have time to get back to Baker Street before Lestrade busts in.”

“Sherlock?” Molly said, reaching for his hand.

“Yes?”

“Be careful. I know you lived the first time, but that was because John had a gun. If he doesn’t this time…”

Sherlock lifted their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “I have my own surprises, this time.” 

“Sherlock!”

“Just to keep me safe. We can’t count on the past staying exactly the same. I have protection.” He let go of her hand and then bent over, lifting up the legs of his trousers. She saw a small throwing knife in a sheath. “I’d rather take him alive, but I promise, John and I will be at your flat tonight.”

“Okay,” she said. He lowered the fabric of his trousers, straightened up, and then headed out of her office, leaving her to braid her hair and finish up her work.

And then? Wait.


	6. Chapter 6

There was no shot through the window.

When Sherlock had calculated in his head everything that could happen, he hadn’t counted on John not figuring it out quickly enough. But Lestrade and Donovan had come in with an armed tactical team, and the cabbie was arrested, and John was…

Taking a call, it seemed, while he sat on the floor of the ambulance, a shock blanket around his shoulders. There was a bandage on his hand, evidence of the lone misstep on his part, as the blade had slipped from his grasp when the cabbie had grabbed his wrist. He should have had a blade with a handle. He’d remember that next time.

Lestrade was busy giving instructions to the other coppers around, and it was Donovan who came over to him. “You’re an idiot,” she said.

“I know.” He flexed his hand slightly, wincing at the tightness of the bandage.

“But you were right, much as I hate to admit it. He seems...broken. If he doesn’t find a way to off himself in his cell, I expect he’ll spill the entire story.” She looked down at him. “What do you get from this?”

“A sense of relief,” he said, looking up at her. “I proved I was right, and one more bad person is taken off the streets.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Your acquaintance has a gun on him. I think if we’d been just a bit slower, there’d have been a shot taken and your brother would be pulling strings to keep Dr. Watson out of jail. Tell him to get rid of it, or stop using it when you work together. For his own good, of course.”

“Of course. Thank you for the sage advice, Donovan.”

“You’re not putting me off, are you?”

“I’m dead serious.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’d say you were replaced with a pod person if I wasn’t so sure you were actually you. Midlife crisis?”

“New relationship,” he said. “And I’m about to have the riot act read to me as soon as I collect my colleague and go to her home.”

Sally seemed to have a satisfied grin on her face after he spoke. “Shame I won’t get to see it.”

He took off his shock blanket as John finished the call. "Come by Barts tomorrow and you may see me trying to make amends.”

Her eyes got wide. “You and Molly?”

“First name basis?” Sherlock asked, surprised. He knew they knew each other, but…this early? Not just after his return from the dead?

“Acquaintances, really, but yeah. You hurt her, I’ll drop you in a hole so deep MI-6 won’t be able to find you. Understand?”

“Loud and clear.” He set the blanket on the floor of the ambulance. “If Lestrade needs me no further, I’ll go home to lick my wounds.”

“She’ll forgive you. You’re alive, after all,” Sally said before turning and heading back to the ring of police cars by the ambulance. Sherlock turned away and headed to John. From his own memories, Mycroft had paid this visit in person so already, changes were happening by the score.

“Important call?”

“Your brother,” John said. “Said I should take the flat. Offered me money to spy again but I turned him down.”

“Really, you should have taken it. Would have made a nice padding to your pension.”

“I don’t tattle on my friends,” John said, looking up at Sherlock with a grin.

“So we’re friends?” Sherlock asked, a grin on his own face. John nodded.

“Close enough for government standards, which by that I mean your brother is part of the government, and by his standards we’re friends.”

“It’s more like Mycroft is the government. I’ve never really tested how much power he truly holds.” That was an out and out lie but past John didn’t need to know yet how much power Mycroft truly wielded. Then he held out his phone. “I need to make a call.”

“I know you have your own phone,” John said, digging his mobile out of his jacket pocket. “You texted me to come to Baker Street.”

“I know, but you have whatever burner phone number my brother is currently using.” John handed Sherlock his phone and Sherlock pressed redial on the last number in John’s call log. It rang twice before it was picked up with no answer. “I’m alive and well, John’s taken the flat, and I insist you take out all surveillance in my bedroom. Molly will be staying over at times if she doesn’t kill me for getting injured tonight.” He hung up then and gave the mobile back to John.

“You are more serious with her than I thought.”

“We’ve been acquaintances for a long while, and that became friendship and more. Neither of us wishes to wait to enjoy the benefits of a relationship with each other. I’ve found it easier to sleep with her than alone.” He nodded to the bank of police cards. “Let’s see about going to her home. I told her I would.”

“What about me?”

“She’s got an excellent guest bedroom. Comfortable, from what I understand.”

**\---**

She hugged him tight the minute she opened the door and Sherlock waved his bandaged hand to wave. She may have sniffled a bit into his Belstaff, but when she let go she hugged John, too.

“I didn’t do anything,” John said, hugging her back awkwardly.

“Oh,” she said, looking at Sherlock. The look in his eyes said he would explain the full events later, but for now, she got them each something warm to eat, a drink to take the edge off, and the conversation drifted between the events of that evening and other topics of conversation until John began to yawn. Molly showed him to the guest bedroom and then came back to find Sherlock finishing his whiskey and then taking the glasses to the sink to rinse them.

She started to ask a question but he put a finger to his lips and then reached for her hand. She carefully grasped his bandaged one, letting their fingers loosely slide into interlocking positions, and he led her to her bedroom. She’d taken the opportunity while he was gone to hit the local store to get a pyjama set for him, and some boxers and a vest for when it was hot. He stripped down to his pants and then put the pyjamas on before getting into bed. She did likewise, knowing tonight was a night for comfort and not shagging, at least not at the moment. 

Once she was cradled against him, her head on his shoulder, settled into the crook of his neck, he joined his good hand with hers. “It all went sideways. I was overconfident. John...he wasn’t there in time. The cabbie must have driven faster this time because I didn’t play along the way I had before. It must not have been enough for him, so he wanted to get me to take the poison more quickly.”

“We can’t do everything exactly the way we did before,” she said softly. 

“No, we can’t. Things have changed even when we can’t anticipate them. Maybe I didn’t let the cabbie brag enough. I may have lingered too long at Barts with you. John may have left Mycroft’s side too quickly. There are a myriad of reasons why the timing was off, but if it hadn’t been for luck, I could have been injured far worse.”

She tightened her grip on his hand and he brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “So what do we do?” she asked.

“We try to stay as close as we can to the events of our past but we accept that things are never irrevocably going to play out the same. We have some knowledge of the grand scheme of things, which gives us an advantage.” He lowered their hands. “My enemies are dangerous, but I have ideas that we can change as needed about how to use our future knowledge to its best advantage.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’ll keep us safe, Molly. I promise.”

“Don’t promise me that,” she said. “Promise you’ll do your best to keep us safe.”

He nodded then. “Then I promise I’ll do my best to keep us safe.”

“And I will too,” she said, letting go of his hand and wrapping her arm around his waist. She held him close and he shut his eyes, savoring it. He had come closer tonight to losing everything he had ever wanted, and it had scared him. But he wouldn’t give in to fear; he’d take his lessons, learn them well, and move forward. It was the intelligent thing to do and Sherlock Holmes was nothing if not an intelligent man.


End file.
